


Peach Lips

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Fingering, Hermaphrodites, I'm laughing at myself for something that isn't even funny, Intersex!Loki, Intersexuality, Loki's vagina is a pillow, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:23:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki wants to know the pleasures a man can bring to his cunt.<br/>Tony Stark seems the perfect candidate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peach Lips

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: the word 'pussy' is used and some other names I probably shouldn't have called Loki's quim. Oh well.

“Why are you in my bed?”

“You allowed it.”

“Why did I do that?”

He’s betting that’s the conversation awaiting him in the morning. Right now, however, he hardly gives a damn how they got there or why he’s letting this happen; he’s rich, drunk, and about to get lucky.

The only problem in this strange equation is the ‘who’ he’s getting lucky with.

He doesn’t remember how this started, other than a rather forceful grapple on his shoulders and a non-consented kiss that was bound to lead to places he wasn’t sure he was ready to explore. He remembers being in his lab when this happened, but the hands that had originally pulled away at the touch have now led his uninvited guest into the upstairs bedroom. God knows how or why, but then again, the proper word would be ‘gods’ – because the person kissing down his neck and fiddling with his belt happens to be Loki.

And Tony happens to be very, very screwed (at least, in the back of his mind; most of his brain is currently consumed by the effects of alcohol and the bulge in his pants).

“Shh…” Loki whispers when Tony raises an arm in protest. “I know we’ve had our bouts in the past, but I assure you I mean you no ill will, Iron Man.”

“Tony Stark,” the billionaire half-blurts in the mind to turn away, “I-I have a name.” His eyes wander about the room, before a hand comes to rest on his cheek and a soft, slippery voice meets his ear.

“Tony,” the god feels out the name on his tongue. “You are going to assist me in a small…intimate experiment.”

Stark feels him pull at the buttons of his jeans. “This doesn’t qualify as sexual assault?”

Loki grins, running a long, pressing finger down the man’s evident arousal. “Not if all participants are willing.”

He lowers his head to kiss the mortal again, and Tony’s gone – too drunk to object, too hard to call Nick Fury. He’ll call him later, get the team to take care of the security threat that’s now very insistently invading his pants. After all, the danger is perfectly contained behind the glass…doors of Tony’s bedroom for the next few hours.

 _Secure enough_.

He groans when the Trickster nips his lip, feeling woozy (whether from the alcohol or Loki or perhaps both, he can’t distinguish right now). His pants fall to the floor around his ankles. He’s not even sure if he’s attracted to men - but hell, knowledge is power as they say, although Tony doesn’t feel particularly powerful in this moment.

(At least, Tony’s dick seems certainly attracted to Loki).

He decides altogether to trash the thought, moving toward the bed with Loki’s persistent guidance, which borders on ‘impatient’ as the god grinds himself against Tony’s half-exposed form. The billionaire nearly falls on his back, wondering if perhaps Loki has had a bit to drink himself, or is simply unaware that he’s much stronger than Tony - hence the seductive grinding feeling more like a car driving into the weaker man below the waist.

“Whoa- easy there,” he warns in a wobbly manner, pressing a hand to the god’s chest.

Loki raises a confused expression at this, almost taken aback - but just as soon shakes it off, hands coming to rest along Tony’s waist. He drags fingers up the man’s torso, lifting the cotton shirt off him as they travel, and Tony feels almost a delay in his touch, as if marveling at his mortal skin. The Trickster presses into him again - hard, but this time with an awareness of his weight - gesturing Tony to lay back onto the mattress below him. The shirt comes off over his head, falling to the floor in a heap.

The moment follows a slow pause, Loki’s eyes wandering along Tony’s bare upper body as if lost. The picture altogether is a haze to the drunk mortal, who immerses into the fog that is green eyes, long white fingers, black locks and freshly kissed red lips. He half-realizes that Loki hasn’t even taken off his own clothes yet, and Tony’s hand wanders up to probe at his jacket before Loki stops him.

The Trickster makes to kiss him again, bending his head over a very aroused, overwhelmed Tony Stark. His black tresses fall into Tony’s eyes and along his face, when the man’s decided he’s had enough - lifts himself on his elbows to unbuckle some of the alien leather concealing the god’s unseen form.

His attempt is made short, however, when Loki pulls back, pressing a sudden, too-strong finger against his “participant’s” throat.

Even drunk, a red flag returns to Tony’s better awareness.

“Easy,” the god smirks, mocking him.

Tony groans, gritting teeth. His gaze shifts a mere second - only to return and find an unexpectedly lecherous image of Loki sliding backwards, straddling him, dragging bony fingers down his abdomen with one hand as the other slithers up his collar, pulling at it slowly. He reminds Stark of a stripper in this moment - certainly not a Norse god bent on disrupting the cosmos - and for a minute Tony’s mind is saturated with lust and horror and everything that comes with watching a mentally unstable supervillain rip his clothes off inches from one's face.

He shifts on the bed.

Loki is heavy, seated against Tony’s groin like a two-ton anvil. He grinds into the man’s hardness with a vengeance, and the billionaire’s veins nearly stand out on his neck, feeling his own artificial pulse in his crotch. It’s too much. Tony bends his leg in protest.

“Loki!” he heaves, pinned under the wretched weight. “Loki, I can’t - you gotta...”

The god stiffens in the middle of his strip tease, disgruntled by the mortal’s interruption.

Tony swallows. _Fuck, you embarrassed him. He doesn’t like being embarrassed; now you’re probably going to die, Anthony_.

To his half-delirious surprise, Loki doesn’t kill him - just lifts his weight from Tony’s groin, rising on his knees as he unfastens the little gold nubs of his armor. Leather and green lining fall from the god’s body beneath him, the clinking sound of undone straps making Tony’s head spin. Or maybe that’s the alcohol.

He can’t tell.

All he knows is, that armor’s got to come off faster. Tony wants to see. He’s admittedly scared of what he might find, judging by this guy’s alien strength, but the ache between his legs is telling him other things, and tonight it looks like the scotch in his brain is giving the orders.

To his relief, Loki lifts his tunic over his head to expose the naked flesh that is his upper body. He’s lean and well-built and hairlessly beautiful in nothing but jewelery. The gold bracers remain, and as Tony’s fogged eyes wander up and down, a small gold chain catches his attention. He strokes a hand up Loki’s chest to touch it, noting its medallion’s hammer-like shape, but the god quickly swats the hand away.

Tony blinks, straightening out of his delirium while Loki’s hands return to their exploration of him. It’s hardly fair that Loki gets to touch him without allowing reciprocation, but hey, the man’s got a half-naked, volatile god stretched over him. No complaints.

Bony fingers find his nipples, pinching them teasingly while the drunk man gasps. He half-ignores the tension in his crotch when Loki’s hand settles on the arc reactor, probing its edges curiously.

“Urgh,” Tony groans, lifting his head on alert when he feels the god tugging his heart piece. “That’s...yeah, that’s important. I sort of n-need that to stay alive. Be careful, if you can...”

The artificial light glints blue in Loki’s eyes, and he ignores the languid Tony, pulling back with a wrinkled nose. His eyes are wide with an expression Tony can’t place nor has the mind to try to; it’s partly devious, half-demanding, and though Tony isn’t thinking straight, he almost detects uncertainty.

Either way, Loki’s pants are coming off or Tony’s going to combust.

The god moves in to capture Tony’s lips again, but this time, he’s met with a resisting hand.

“No, no, hot stuff,” Stark objects, putting his hand on Loki’s face. “You want me, you got me, but you gotta let Tony touch some too, babe.”

“What did you call me?”

Ignoring Loki’s indignant expression, the man’s hand wanders a slow ride up the god’s spine, the other grappling a handful of exposed hip.

“Yeah you’re hot,” he murmurs. He could easily be killed for this, but those angry green eyes are starting to look adorable to Stark somehow. Filled with bright danger. Like his repulsors.

God, he’s drunk.

Loki narrows his eyes, but his lips gradually succumb to a smile. He leans into Tony’s touch with surprising compliance, pressing their still-clothed erections together with softly swerving hips.

And then his weight becomes once more overbearingly apparent.

Grunting, Tony shifts before he allows himself to be flattened again - takes a position above the Trickster, chest hair scratching against Loki’s smooth breast. They kiss, and Tony feels the god moan against his mouth, surprisingly immersed in the way Tony touches him. The billionaire reaches for the buckle of Loki’s pants, unfastening it, tugging the leather, sliding them down his thighs with hungry fingers. The anticipation registers in his pulsing cock, and as he finishes undressing Loki, the god slides his underwear down to expose Tony’s length.

Without warning, Loki’s hands are on him, tugging his erection with a strength Tony certainly can’t handle. Stark groans loudly into his mouth, pulling back.

“God, fhh...ahh...” he mutters and mutters while Loki works at him.

His hips gyrate of their own accord. His cock burns an aching bright red, flushed, leaking. He gasps Loki’s name, nearly choking under the heat of stimulation, of alcohol consumption, of the god’s slickened palm stroking mercilessly back and forth.

With his other hand, the Trickster clutches his sack, teasing the flesh with his long fingers, sending Tony to tears. He massages and tugs, squeezes and lets go, goads his flesh with feather-like touches till it’s pulsing and swollen, then grips him again with tight wrath until Tony spills.

The man’s seed pumps out of him excitedly. Tony releases a strangled cry deep in his throat, and Loki grins as he finishes, still palming him in hand. He sits up, leaning in to kiss the crown, tasting semen on his tongue.

Tony leans back, weary and consumed. His face deigns a deep blush, feeling the pleasure die down, followed by a headache.

“So weak, human men," Loki says, kissing Tony’s belly.

The billionaire clutches his forehead. “Don’t knock us. Mortality is just a term; what’s infinite-” he palms his crotch with the other hand “-is all in here.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore, and the Trickster laughs at his wobbly state as he lays back on the bed.

Then Loki frowns. “Oh, you’re not falling asleep, are you?”

“Yeah, I am,” Tony admits lazily. His eyes shift between open and closed and mid-drooping. “You kind of put me out from that.”

He wouldn’t be dozing off like this on a regular night, but the scotch in his system is calling for lights out. With the last of his strength, he thinks he feels guilty for leaving Loki this way; but then, if not for the alcohol, Loki wouldn’t be in his bed to begin with.

Huffing in annoyance at the drunken mortal, Loki snaps his fingers.

Tony barely hears the sound before - with a sudden jolt - he’s awake again, not so languid, feeling energy creep into his spine, along his legs, and all over his body. He feels unnaturally sustained, though still woozy, and his cock rises with a strange surge of arousal.

Tony’s eyes widen, and Loki grins.

“No, no, Tony Stark,” the villain repeats in a mocking tone. “You will give me mine too before the night is over.”

It’s magic. It must be magic. God, he hates aliens right now.

With newly half-aware judgment, minus the throbbing cock between his legs, Tony nearly has the mind to call Fury. The thought quickly dissipates, however, when Loki swings a heavy leg over his hips, drawing him in.

The mortal groans, feeling all of Loki’s strength atop him.

“Now, where were we?” The god sneers, reaching a hand below Tony’s stomach.

He finds his length and pulls at it again - and Tony jerks, sits up for his own protective sake, dipping Loki into the mattress. No. There’s no way he’s letting Loki have control over that again, because who knows how many times he’ll shoot his Asgardian pixie dust into Tony’s cock if he falls asleep again?

Not happening, not a chance.

Loki writhes, bucking into Tony’s bare body with his own. His moist lips find Tony’s collarbone, and he nips, sucks and trails kisses into the skin there, growing heady underneath the mortal man.

Stark thrusts his hips into him, and their cocks meet, both men moaning into the warm air between them. Tony’s erection grinds into the other’s, slicking Loki with his own come, and through the fog of lust Tony suddenly collects a thought: he hasn’t even _looked_ at that part of Loki. His eyes open, and he lowers his gaze, but before he can catch a glance Loki’s hands are on either side of his face, pulling him into another kiss.

The God of Mischief’s tongue is in his mouth. He’s never even done this before. He’s questioning his sexuality by the minute.

It’s too much, and before Tony can spill again he finds the will to pull away, ignoring his own needs in favor of Loki’s pleasure.

Sighing with a needy breath, Loki cranes his neck into the pillow. He closes his legs, however, when Tony dives in to touch him - an irritating move, Tony thinks. He’ll toy with Tony like a lab experiment, but when it comes to his own body, the guy’s a freaking tease. Then Tony remembers he’s a crazed supervillain.

Right.

Tony runs his hands over those long, smooth legs. Loki’s hairless everywhere, apparently.

“Come on, open for me, gorgeous,” he says against Loki’s raised, locked knees.

The god catches his breath and stares - just stares, directly into Tony’s eyes, his own cloudy with lust and the mysterious thoughts that fill his head. He smiles, leaning his body in an S-posture under Tony’s nudity, and only then with curved lips does he part his legs for the mortal.

Loki’s thighs open invitingly. Tony means to go down on him - the way men do, he supposes - and he dips his hand under Loki’s cock before lowering his head.

But there’s something odd.

Tony’s fingers brush smooth flesh - flat where there should be a sack - and the man realizes some priority checks should have been in order before this started.

 _Hold the phone_...

With Loki’s genitals in his view now, he makes an interesting discovery: where his balls should be, peaks a round, soft opening under Loki’s penis. A vagina. Loki has a vagina. A pink little slit surrounded by puffy labia.

Tony coughs.

“You’re a..?”

“Surprised?”

He looks up to see the god smiling at him, a very cocky smile that shows little remorse for the man’s confusion.

“What, does it displease your eye?” Loki laughs, but maybe he’s being serious. Tony can’t tell.

He would say, “this was not the droid I was looking for”, but the comment seems irrelevant considering he’s never even bedded a guy. In either case, Tony’s certainly surprised - intrigued, fascinated, scared at that, because he knows this can’t be an ordinary case as Loki isn’t human nor of a race even close to mankind. It’s strange, and Tony lowers a hesitant hand into it, feeling the soft flesh on his fingers.

“N-no, it doesn’t. Doesn’t displease at all...”

It’s a stark contrast: Loki’s proud erection on top, and below, a hairless...pillow. The lips are puffy and round and that’s exactly what Stark is going to call his apparent womanhood. A pillow.

He presses a finger into the opening experimentally, but then the god reacts immediately, disgruntled, closing his legs.

“D- not so fast,” he says. He seems unsure.

Tony can’t understand the response at first, but then it comes to him. All the sudden, the tables are turned and Loki is a much less dominant creature than he originally appeared to be, when he’d dragged Tony into bed and forced him into an orgasm. Maybe he’s not so in-control after all. Maybe he has trust issues.

“Tell me something, gorgeous,” Tony says. “Why are you really here?”

The god’s eyes narrow at him, but he doesn’t answer.

Tony presses. “Because I’m starting to think you really don’t know why you’re here, pushing me into my own bed, using me for your ‘experiments’.”

“I hear you are popular with the women,” Loki says through his cocky grin. Admitting this doesn’t seem to bother him, but then Loki cocks his head to the side, looking away - and Tony knows there’s something he’s hiding. It’s more than just trust issues.

He feels the need to laugh.

“Is that why you came here, Loki?” he asks, a smile growing from cheek to cheek. “Somebody out there not treating the lady right?”

The Trickster scowls at him. It wasn’t right to call him that, and now he feels bad. _Not your best line, Tony, even if he is an arch enemy_.

The gold medallion around Loki’s neck catches his eye again, and Tony takes it in hand, pointing it to Loki’s chest. It’s Thor’s hammer - he recognizes it now.

“Something tells me you’re looking for something better than the hammer,” he whispers.

Truth be told, he doesn’t know why he said that or why the little necklace gives him suspicious theories in his head about Loki. Either way, the god turns to look at him, expression hard but filled with a strange truth. Tony decides then that theories don’t really matter - that for whatever reason Loki might have had to come to him (and not to anyone else), he’s here now, and he ought to get what he was driving at since the first second he kissed Tony in the lab.

That’s good enough persuasion for Tony.

He takes Loki’s hand in his own, bringing them to the outer skin of his quim.

“So let’s remedy this, shall we?”

The Trickster stares at him half-befuddled, half in the mind to kill him, but he opens his legs once more anyway, exposing all of himself to Tony. Bare in his beautiful...hermaphroditic alien way.

He isn’t shy about himself either.

Tony dips his head in again. This requires further exploration.

Under Loki’s jutting cock, his outer lips catch Tony for something out of a porno. They’re perfectly plump - too perfect - and he wonders if they’re completely natural. Whatever the case, Loki’s got a peach. And Tony finds it to be utterly desirable, pressing his fingers on either side of the lips to spread them, revealing a red little hole.

And a clit, to boot.

Immediately, the god exhales, spreading himself further. Tony watches him unwind against the bedding, feeling his thighs tense slightly under his palm. Tony places his hands on his inner thighs, kneading little circles into the white flesh of them, relaxing Loki with gentle massaging. It seems to send small moans his direction - with Tony just barely touching him - and the man wonders how desperately Loki had been waiting for this. He’ll know soon enough.

He ducks down without warning. If there’s one thing he’s good at (besides everything else), it’s pleasing a woman’s treasure trove. Loki may not be a woman, sure, but right now he’s half-built like one. How lucky on Tony’s part, too.

In a swift motion, Tony lifts Loki’s bottom half as best he can, pressing his face into the center of worship. Needless to say, the Trickster is greatly thrown off, legs bending in the air, eyes wide.

“Oh...”

Stark plants an overwhelming onslaught of kisses on Loki’s quim, mouth humming against his clit as he does so. It causes Loki to buck, and Tony dips his tongue into the soft opening, finding it dribbling with arousal inside.

“You like that, peach lips?” he teases, continuing his ministrations.

Loki raises a confused brow. “What?”

“Your pussy,” Tony says - it’s a bad word on his behalf, but he’s somewhat tired and Loki probably deserves it for throwing him out a window - “is a peach fruit, which I’m currently eating.”

The Trickster wrinkles his nose at the comment, probably finding it strange and unrelatable, and promptly ignores Tony. “Keep going,” he orders him, pushing his foot into Tony’s shoulder.

 _Demanding Asgardians_.

His tongue returns to invade Loki’s slit, pushing in as far as it will go, and the god closes his eyes in bliss. Tony strokes him inside with probing motions, wetness building upon wetness. One of his fingers reaches for the small knot above, flicking it in circles and a teasing pressure, and the God of Mischief gasps, hands fisting Tony’s sheets. Tony moans into the pliant flesh, kissing it, tonguing Loki, tickling him with his beard. He nips his plump labia and teases his folds with his tongue.

The sensations are too erotic - too overwhelming for the god - and Loki’s hand reaches for his own length, tugging roughly. The foreskin slides back and forth, pleasuring him, every part of himself dripping from mouth to cock to clenching cunt. Loki rolls his hips into Tony’s face - almost involuntarily - and the man’s hand on his little nub quickens its pace, making Loki cry out.

Then Tony’s lips replace his finger, sucking his clit. It throbs hotly, Tony’s wet mouth overwhelming - and with an unexpected jolt, Loki comes, seed spurting out of his cock onto his chest. The pleasure renders him speechless, and a moment later he’s desperate for breath, cheeks brightly pink with ecstasy.

Stark licks his lips clean, tasting sweet, sour, heady Trickster god. Loki’s cock remains hard between his legs, and Tony’s then reminded of his own pulsing member, which could do with a little attention. He moans.

“So soft, peaches,” he observes breathlessly, dipping a shallow finger in Loki’s hole. “I think I got a permanent name for you.”

“Don’t you dare,” Loki hisses through rough gasping.

Tony laughs. “I don’t get a ‘thank you’ for my efforts, sweetheart?”

“You’re not through.”

“Oh, am I?” He leans in, pressing a kiss to the Trickster’s slit. “What more does the King want me to do to his honeypot?”

Loki groans. “I’ll have your head for those names, Stark.”

“You’re adorable.”

In a slight daze of a gesture, Tony releases Loki’s hips, the God of Lies whining underneath him. He clearly wants more, but Tony knows he’d rather suffer through an aching erection than ask.

Then again, maybe not.

Loki arches his back, eyes imbued with something devious and volatile. His lusty mouth curves into a dangerous smile, and Tony’s almost scared - sits back, only to be assaulted by Loki’s legs, which claim his waist with that frightening strength. He’s pulled in before he can react, forced above the Trickster in between two strong thighs that hold him with a threatening pressure. His breath catches in his throat, and he looks into Loki’s bold expression with confoundment.

“You consented to me, Tony,” the god says in his satiny voice, terrifying and utterly captivating. “Now give me what I want - what we both want.” He runs his hand down the mortal’s middle.

Tony wrinkles his brow. “What is it we want?”

He’s afraid - and deeply hoping - he already knows the answer, right before he feels legs wrap around his back.

“Fuck me.”

Loki’s smile turns vicious beneath the red of those lips, eyes bright with vigor. He’s so wanton like this - flushed and wet and spread out in eagerness - and a hard desire fills Tony’s chest, rumbling through the most base sense of himself. His cock pulsates with it, so ready to sate the need of that cunt underneath him, and he takes himself in hand, pressing his face into Loki’s neck.

A groan escapes the god, dripping with lust just like his quim. Tony thrusts his hips into him, connecting them almost in the way they are desperate for, and Loki trails fingers down the man’s spine into the cleft of his ass. He responds with friction, moaning and kissing up Loki’s breast while his dick slides between the other’s folds without breaching him. Loki’s nipples turn rosy and pebble-hard when Tony rolls them under his tongue, and the god gasps, pulling him in.

Locked together with Loki, Tony lifts himself up, asserting the control waiting to detonate inside of him.

“Okay, pussy pie,” he says finally in a teasing manner - winking before Loki can shoot him a glare. “Gonna put it in you...” He trails off and grips his member, pulling a few strokes for his own pleasure.

Loki’s thighs hold him tight, beckoning, craving. The strength of him is overwhelming, but Tony overlooks it, too far-gone to think about his own safety. He’s dizzy with need, and lowers his cock until the head brushes Loki’s slit, the god’s swollen folds slick and so soft.

Then he pushes inside - and fuck, it’s heaven.

Loki clenches around him, lips greedy around his length, and Tony can feel the velvet of his cunt sending jolts into his cock. He presses in, and in, and more, and _gods_ \- Loki is so tight. So hot. So perfect. He fits Tony like a glove - lusty, wet, and achingly pliant, and Tony is hard beyond hard, taking in the sweet pressure of his inside.

The god dips his head in for a kiss, sighing against Tony's mouth. The fullness in his cunt makes him whine for more, and he swivels his hips in a wanton display.

The swerving turns Tony into a desperate man, so _good_ around his cock, and he bottoms out in Loki, locking their hips together with needy force. He'll never phase Loki with his human strength, but hell, his ego loves it, giving Loki a solid grind out of that base male instinct inside him. He feels strong - Loki's responsive moans feeding him - and he thrusts in, and in again, taking pleasure from giving pleasure.

The supervillain's legs tighten around him, hips bucking up, the balls of his feet pressing into his ass. He's not shy about his pleasure, his moaning mouth humming against Tony's throat.

Stark picks up the speed eventually, rocking into Loki with as little mercy as an arrow to its target, and the god's plump lips squeeze his length greedily as he pumps. Lewd, wet sounds escape where their bodies lock. Tony moves faster and faster as his orgasm builds - when he remembers himself and the cunt he's pleasing, slowing down as to calm the fire of his lust. He reaches a hand down, gripping himself and pulling out of Loki; the god whines immediately, mourning the sensation, but Tony has better plans.

The juices from Loki's arousal are slick on his cock, and he slides his hard member against Loki's own, taking them both in hand. He pumps them together, and the Trickster writhes, cunt clenching from the emptiness while his member throbs in Tony's palm. His hand joins Tony's, and they thrust as one.

With his other hand, Tony dips his fingers deep into Loki's quim. He crooks his middle finger inside him, pushing in rhythmic circles - a skill he knows too well - and Loki is taken by surprise.

"Mm...ahh..."

The fingers twist in his cunt, Tony skillfully building up a pressure that hits and alights strange nerves of pleasure in the god. Loki's walls clench spasmically, his cock twitching against the mortal's. He cranes his neck, losing control - and Tony watches him through breathy desire, frotting faster, pushing faster. He brushes Loki's clit time and time, fingers twisting relentlessly until the Trickster is _screaming_.

Loki's toes curl. His thighs shudder. He shakes frantically against Tony's body, and the man holds him steady in one leg, releasing his hand from their cocks.

Tony's fingers are too much - too good - and Loki jerks as they assault his hot spot. His screams are as shrieks, as if terrified and delighted and overwhelmed at once - and Loki bucks into his orgasm. His quim flexes violently, pushing Tony's fingers out. His erection pulses and pulses, white seed spilling out onto his stomach. His cheeks are hot and red, and with strange instinct, his body tries to curl itself into a shivering ball.

"Hey, hey, shhh..." Tony presses Loki's legs apart, suppressing his shuddering, feeling him whimper beneath him. His reflexes are nothing against Loki, though, and he finds himself pulled into the mess of shaky Trickster god limbs.

Loki presses his forehead against Tony's. Brown eyes look into green ones - very hazed, dreamy green ones - and Tony knows he's in for it.

"Are you all right?" he dares ask.

The god laughs a hoarse, chilling cackle in his throat, grin wide as can be. "I am... _enamored_ , I think." He exhales with thrill rushing through him. "Do that again, whatever it was."

Loki wants a repeat performance.

Probably several.

Tony's dick is throbbing desperately between his legs meanwhile, and the god leans in to take him in hand, pulling enthusiastically with his palm. His long fingers glide up and down, faster and tighter and more forcefully, and Tony feels warmth pooling in his hips, overtaken. He thrusts against it, heaving - finally wrenching forward as he comes.

Loki smiles his dangerous smile, pumping the mortal's member with slick seed until he collects himself.

Through the night, Tony forces himself to stay awake, pleasuring Loki's quim until the god is sated and sleepy. He thinks in some daze against his better judgment that he's fallen in love with the sight of it.

Afterward, he blackens out to the feeling of Loki stroking his forehead and whispering "good boy" in his ear.

And in the morning, he finally wakes to find an empty bed, no trace of Loki. So, no awkward conversation awaiting him after all.

Tony sits up, recalling the very strange night in his mind. The phone lies next to him, but he's not calling Nick - not today, not tomorrow. He lifts his head and laughs to himself instead, hungover with a headache and a peach in his mind.

_"You are going to assist me in a small...intimate experiment."_

Loki used him.

He finally gets what the 'experiment' was.

He'd tell the other Avengers about it, but hell, it's too risky on his part and Thor would probably hammer his head to the floor. Does Thor even know about Loki's...extra special ingredient?

Tony laughs and laughs.

He's never letting that image go.


End file.
